


La Sorcellerie

by Unihuppias



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Nonbinary Character, Historical, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, lobalore, miragehound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unihuppias/pseuds/Unihuppias
Summary: France in the 17th century has its certain beauty and charm, but the dark hunts of the so-called witches and sorcerers leave a dark coating on the otherwise pleasing image. The time has become to work from the shadows.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt, Loba Andrade/Bangalore | Anita Williams
Comments: 13
Kudos: 17





	La Sorcellerie

**Author's Note:**

> Note that the story may include topics that can be triggering or sensitive to some. I'll be posting the warnings at the end of every chapter because they might include spoilers and give out information about each chapter. 
> 
> If there are trigger warnings that I forget to use, something that you would wish me to add in the warnings in the future, please let me know and I will add them on the list!

“Keep it in, hunter.”

The voice sounded so quiet, so distant as it drowned under the screams that were sending chills down Blóðhundur’s spine. The hideous screeching, filled with pain and fear, caused Blóðhundur to bury their head deeper inside the hood of their long coat in order to block the noise. It was making them sick, awakening emotions that they didn't wish to be facing right now, opening old wounds that they had tried to forget about.

Or was it even the screams, but perhaps the laughter instead? The wicked cackling, the cheerful screams full of relief, the chants that felt never-ending when telling them to _burn the witch._

What a sinner she had been. A woman with more knowledge and scientific experience than anyone else had in this village. Whoever it had been to report her secret library to the officers would be in their prayers tonight - in prayers for the Gods to punish this person with all of their might. 

“Mary was not evil," Blóðhundur's quiet voice barely even carried out. Perhaps they shouldn't have taken a look from under their hood at all, since a gag reflex inside their throat was quick to start growing stronger moment after another at the sight of the burnt remains of Mary. It made them gasp aloud and cover their mouth, forced them to remember a little too much, made their legs feel weak and hands quiver. The woman beside them, Loba Andrade, was covering both her own shock and disgust behind a handheld fan instead.

“I know, my dear. I know," she assured her friend. 

“Her son will now be an orphan," they mentioned. "He will forever carry the label of a witch's son."

“Just like us,” Loba then reminded them. “And we turned out just fine, didn’t we?”

Blóðhundur couldn’t help but disagree with her statement. Whatever it was that Loba considered as fine or unproblematic clearly wasn't the same to them, and as her closest friend Blóðhundur knew better than anyone how their pasts had affected both of them. How wounded their souls were, what kind of empty spots they had inside, how much better it would all be if they both wouldn't have been all alone until now.

“Almost, at least," Loba soon corrected herself. They noted how much lower her voice was when compared to earlier and how the frown on her face only deepened. She was thinking - they were sure of it. Holding back her wrath and urge to just stab someone right there and now.

“You see, these people who were laughing at her screams just now…” she said and gestured around her with a small movement of her head.

“... Will be the ones burning in hell one day. I will make sure of it with these very own hands of mine.”

"May the death of Somers be the mark of our revolution, Blóðhundur. This moment will be known as where it all started from," her voice was quiet yet confident. There was something behind it that the hunter couldn't quite get a hold of, almost like they didn't know what they were about to get themselves into, but Loba was a trusted friend of theirs. Once you gained their trust, you also gained their ultimate loyalty, and with Loba they had already reached this point of friendship a long time ago. They would die for her, she would die for them. As simple as that.

"I assume you have a plan of some sort," Blóðhundur said, almost like a question formed into a sentence.

"Of course!" a light-sounding laughter fell from Loba's painted lips. The hunter wasn't sure if it was truly as light as it sounded like or if Loba had only gotten even better with her ability to deceive others, to hide whatever there was going on inside her head. All the little dark secrets. Sometimes they just wanted to peek inside and see it themselves - just to understand her a little better.

"I don't know how well it will work out, but..." Loba pondered. "It's better than nothing."

"Do you have a plan for the child as well?" their gaze fell down to their feet once their brows furrowed at the thought of the little orphan.

"Ah, well... Not exactly, at least not yet, but we shall come up with something," Loba said and took a gentle hold of their sleeve.

"Come on. We can't have the whole conversation in here," she continued. Her touch was just light enough to use that small tug as a sign to tell them to follow her. Though Blóðhundur's legs felt heavier than before, they were able to keep the pace well enough and follow her. Their heavy boots, made out of leather, dragged along the dry ground and they felt like digging themselves a grave right there. 

However, it was not how their family would have wished them to end up like. Artur, Johann, Brigida... they knew that those three were all watching from somewhere. Blóðhundur knew it far too well; the fact that they hadn't yet done enough to deserve a place in the great Valhalla. They hadn't fought until their last breath unlike the other members of their family.

The rumors had already started to spread. They could sense it. They heard it in the caws of the ravens, the wise messengers of Odin, saw it on the faces of the passersby. People were glad that yet another witch, a mighty one even in their words, had been slain. A worshipper of Satan, a sinner of the worst kind, a soulless whore that would now return to Hell - so the whispers said. 

"I shall take care of her son," Blóðhundur suddenly said. Was it an idea sent by the God of wisdom, bravery or what, they couldn't know. 

"Darling. I know you're upset, but if I recall correctly, you have no experience of raising a child," Loba reminded them with a questioning look on her face. "It's not an easy duty to have. To take care of a child... especially of someone else's."

"My uncle took care of me as if I was his own," Blóðhundur told her. Their late uncle, Artur, had been someone they had always admired and looked up to. Though the man didn't have much knowledge of showing empathy or handling emotions, they had still understood and seen that the man tried his very best, even if the child had been a constant reminder of his own dead brother.

"If there is anything that I can do for the child, then I will. Mary did not have many friends that could look after him, we have no knowledge of the whereabouts of his father, his mother was just burnt alive..." they counted reasons with a help of their fingers. "It is our duty to help him."

Though Loba seemed to understand this, there wasn't much she could say to it. The increasing worry was clear on her face, the one that was telling Blóðhundur how she probably was going through all kinds of possible scenarios inside her head, trying to come up with some kind of a solution to all of it. Something was telling them that she couldn't come up with much other ideas either.

"You're right," she finally admitted.

"It is our duty from now on. He cannot be left alone either," a clicking sound left Loba's handheld fan when she closed it with a smooth movement of her fingers. She tapped the object against her arm while walking, bit her lip and finally let out a frustrated sigh.

"I agree," Blóðhundur's answer was short and simple.

But they understood how quickly the news spread, knew how fast they would reach further. There was a sense of danger floating in the air, circling around them, telling the pair to hurry up before someone else would reach the door of the Somers family.

"Let us head there, then. I do not want him to hear the news from anyone else."

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS  
> \- Character death  
> \- Death by burning
> 
> Comments are always very much appreciated! I'm always glad to receive feedback, be it positive or negative. I'll happily listen to your ideas, tips and thoughts and I tend to answer to every comment.
> 
> You will find my social medias, mostly Tumblr and Twitter, with the same tag (@Unihuppias). I'm more active on Tumblr since I don't have too many people to interact with on Twitter, but I may become more active there as well. On both platforms I will also post updates on the fic, announcements of new chapters etc!


End file.
